


All Yours

by 401



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 1940's, Bucky Barnes Feels, Caregiving, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Love, M/M, New Relationship, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-War, Protective Bucky Barnes, sensitive bucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-09
Updated: 2016-04-09
Packaged: 2018-06-01 05:39:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6503041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/401/pseuds/401
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve gets beaten up again. Bucky hates to see him hurt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Yours

“You wait till’ I get my hands on the bastard,” Bucky growled, angrily tearing open another package of wound strips with his teeth, “I’m a’ make him wish he’d never been thought up.”  


Steve shook his head and sighed through his nose, putting his head back for Bucky to patch up on of the cuts on his chin. The pain in his wrist was dizzying. He knew it was broken as soon as he had hit the pavement. Bucky had splinted it with rods and bandaged it up, lessening the ache a little, but nowhere near enough.

“Cool off, Buck,” Steve pressed weakly, putting his good arm across his face and gritting his back teeth, “Gonna get yourself arrested.”  


Bucky blew out a little huff of discontent and started patching up Steve’s temple, nudging him to turn gently and using his thumb to push away the blood patted locks of hair around Steve’s forehead. Steve, besides the pain, was quite content. He liked when Bucky did this, even if he did fight it until the last second when Bucky, more often than not, had to manually wrestle him onto the couch so he could be taken care of. It was something about the whole comfortable silence of it. Once Bucky’s blind anger had cooled from ‘surface of the sun’ to an easier to manage ‘August in Georgia’, the pair could sit quite amiably, Steve quite content with being told where to move and how to sit, sometimes falling asleep and letting Bucky take over completely. The Sergeant would suture, swab and patch all of the cuts and bruises with near- to- no pain and medical precision, Steve knew that. He trusted him completely with the task.

“They’ve just done a right number on you this time,” Bucky said quietly, the anger audibly turning to sadness in the back of his throat, “I hate seeing you all beat up.”

Steve opened his eyes and turned to Bucky. The brunet dropped his gaze immediately, hiding the flush of red across his cheeks and the discomfort on his face.

“I’m fine, Bucky,” Steve reassured, grabbing his hand and holding it to his chest, “I’m used to this.”

 

Bucky let his head lull forward, resting it on Steve’s stomach. Steve could feel him holding back, not leaning his full weight on him. I was aggravating and endearing all the same.

“That’s the worst freaking part,” Bucky groaned, “You’re actually used to being bullied and roughed up. At what point do you get used to getting your ass kicked Steve?”  


Steve did not reply, just ran and idle hand through Bucky’s hair, anchoring him in the comfortable position. If he kept on, it would put him right to sleep. Bucky, no matter how hard he tried to appear, was a sucker for the soft treatment.

The truth was though; Steve did not know when he had gotten used to being beat up. He just knew that at some point, he had resigned himself to just being _that_ guy. The one who couldn’t hold a date, or hold his own in a brawl. That was just who he was.

“Dunno, Buck,” Steve sighed, “I really don’t know.

 

Bucky hummed in reply, the heat of his breath radiating through Steve’s t-shirt.

“I ain’t gonna let it happen anymore. You always wanted me to back off and let you fight your own fights, but I can’t,” Bucky squeezed Steve’s hip as he spoke, the frustration playing through his hands like it always did.

Steve could always tell when Bucky was angry. His hands would ball up into tight fists, going white ant the knuckles before the anger got to his head. When he was excited, he’d tap his thumbs against his forefingers, when he was sad, he’d rub his left hand with his right one like some sort of self-comforting gesture. Steve had learnt long ago that if Bucky would not tell him what he was feeling, his hands would.

“I don’t want you looking after me all the time, Buck,” Steve protested, “I’m old enough…”  


“But you’re mine to look after!” Bucky half-shouted, lifting his head up sharply.

The wet marks on Steve’s t-shirt told him that Bucky’s emotion was getting the better of him. He would not mention it.

“Well, I want you to be mine anyways,” Bucky muttered bashfully, regulating himself, “I’m sorry, I’m just mad is all.”  


Steve shook his head and pulled Bucky’s head back, letting it rest nestled into his neck instead of on his chest. Bucky’s eyelashes were damp against his throat. It tickled.

 

“Guess what,” Steve whispered.

“What?” Bucky mumbled into the darkness.

 

“I’m all yours.”

 


End file.
